Where lately had been gloom and despair there now reigned joy and confidence. With the great mountains behind them, and this new, pleasant and gentle land all around them, the spirits of the men rose buoyantly.
They could float easily down the strong current of the great Snake River, laboring but little, if at all. They made long hours every day, and by the middle of autumn they saw ahead of them a yet grander flood than that of the noble river which was bearing them.
At last they had found the Columbia! They had found what Mackenzie never found, what Fraser was not to find--that great river, now to be taken over with every right of double discovery by these messengers of the young republic. How swelled their hearts, when at last they knew this truth, unescapable, incontrovertible! It was theirs. They had won!
The men had grown reckless now. Cruzatte, Labiche, Drouillard--all the adventurers--sang as they traveled, gayer and more gay from day to day.
Always the landscape had fascinating interest for them in its repeated changes. They were in a different world. No one had seen the mountains which they saw. The Rockies, the Bitter Roots--these they had passed; and now they must yet pass through another range, this time not by the toilsome process of foot or horse travel, but on the strong flood of the river. The Columbia had made a trail for them through the Cascades.
Down the stormy rapids they plunged exulting. Mount Hood, St. Helen's, Rainier, Adams--all the lofty peaks of the great Cascades, so named at a later date, appeared before them, around them, behind them, as they swung into the last lap of their wild journey and headed down toward the sea. Cruzatte, Labiche, Drouillard--all you others--time now, indeed, for you to raise the song of the old voyageurs! None have come so far as you--your paddles are wrinkling new waters. You are brave men, every one, and yours is the reward of the brave!
Soon, so said the Indians, they would come to ships--canoes with trees standing in them, on which teepees were hung.
"Me," said Cruzatte, "I never in my whole life was seen a sheep! I will be glad for see wan now."
But they found no ship anywhere in the lower Columbia. All the shores were silent, deserted; no vessel lay at anchor. Before them lay the empty river, wide as a sea, and told no tales of what had been. They were alone, in the third year out from home. Thousands of leagues they had traveled, and must travel back again.
Here they saw many gulls. As to Columbus these birds had meant land, to our discoverers they meant the sea. Forty miles below the last village they saw it--rolling in solemn, white-topped waves beyond the bar.